


Untitled

by Medeafic



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bottom Zach, Dubious Consent, Lack of Communication, M/M, Sleepy Sex, Top Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill from the first pinto kink meme for the prompt: Chris wants to top, but Zach is the top. Always. Eventually, Chris starts rubbing himself against Zach's ass while they sleep. He does it a lot, getting himself off imagining fucking Zach. Then one night Zach wakes up in the middle of it. Where it goes from there is up to the writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to help fill the August 1000 Pinto fic challenge on Tumblr. Updated a little.

At first, it was hot. That was undeniable. Chris enjoyed Zach being all bossy and dominant and manhandling him, shoving him down and pounding into him until Chris’s view went blank. He’d shoot hard over Zach’s clean sheets and revel in the aftermath, getting fucked even harder as Zach hissed in his ear about having to do laundry again and slapping at Chris’s ass in playful retaliation.

Yeah, that was definitely hot. 

But they’ve been messing around for five months now and not _once_ has Zach let him top. It’s frustrating. It’s _unfair_. He’s suggested it a few times, only to watch Zach’s eyebrows quirk in amusement and his lips curl like Chris is making some kind of joke.

“I’m serious, man,” he’d said last time. They were discussing it over dinner. Zach, infuriatingly, stood up from the table before him to leave, and patted his head.

“Sure you are, Pine.” And if they hadn’t been in the middle of a restaurant, Chris would have stood up too and decked him.

That was when he realized that things needed to be sorted out for once and for all. Fantasizing about punching his fuckbuddy’s face in doesn’t seem like a really healthy thing to Chris, so he’s been trying to find a solution.

The best solution he’s come up with isn’t much of one, Chris will be the first to admit, but it’s better than nothing. Rutting against Zach’s ass in the middle of the night, holding his breath every time Zach twitches in his sleep, and praying that he won’t wake isn’t _satisfying_ , and the orgasm is always pretty pitiful, but it’s better than nothing. And it’s not like he just started humping away furiously one night; it’s been a gradual thing.

Although frankly, it also feels creepy, because Zach is asleep and Chris knows that trying to sex up someone in their sleep isn’t a great idea, to put it mildly. So half the time he has an unenjoyable spurt in his own shorts, and the other half his boner dies and he feels sick inside, and like a dirty pervert.

But last night Zach _did_ wake up, and feeling Chris’s hard cock rubbing into his ass cheek was all the invitation needed to roll them both over and start fucking vigorously into Chris. 

Which was great, but it defeated Chris’s purpose entirely. He was coming before he could suggest trying it the other way _just once, come on man, just let me try_.

Afterwards he asked Zach if it was okay, him doing that, rubbing himself off as long as he keeps his clothes on and everything, and Zach had just shrugged. “Whatever. Just don’t jizz on me in my sleep. Wake me up next time, if you like, and I’ll fuck you.” 

But that’s not what Chris wants.

“Man, you gotta let me,” he says over breakfast. “Top you, I mean.”

Zach doesn’t even lower the paper. “I don’t bottom, Chris. You know that.” The words rise up over black and white newsprint, disembodied and disinterested. “You can find someone else, if you like,” he adds a few minutes later. “I don’t mind sharing you. You could even ask them to join us.”

Chris’s chair squeals across the floor as he shoves it back, slams his hand down the center of Zach’s paper, collapsing it like a concertina. “Fuck you, Quinto,” he snarls, and slams the door as hard as he can on the way out. He’s haunted all day by Zach’s startled eyes.

~ 

He doesn’t call Zach later. These days Chris feels like if they’re not getting in touch to have sex, they’re not getting in touch for any other reason anyway. They don’t even seem to be friends anymore, either. All they do is eat and fuck, or fuck and watch TV. Chris’s mood blackens, and his agent accuses him of sulking in a meeting with a prominent director. It’s all Zach’s fault, of course. Zach and his precious asshole; God forbid anyone breach that unsullied fortress.

His phone chimes.

_it’s just not my thing._

Chris stares at the text for a full hour before he replies, _You can’t even turn off your instinct for hipster bullshit lower case when you apologize?_

_i’m not apologizing._

_Well, hey, fuck you very much._

The phone rings in his hand, and Chris glares at it until it rings out. It starts up again immediately.

“What?” 

“I seem to have hurt you somehow and I’m not entirely sure what I did, so I can’t apologize. I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and the sex thing doesn’t seem like it would be that big a deal, so—”

Chris hangs up on him. Oh, God. It’s so satisfying. He expects Zach to ring back right away, though, and when he doesn’t, Chris starts to feel guilty. So he calls Zach.

“I really don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to be a brat about things, Pine,” Zach sighs, instead of saying hello.

“I’m pissed at you. And I have a right to be. You treat me asking to top you like a fucking _joke_ , Zach. How do you _think_ I’m going to react? I mean, okay, you don’t want to do it, fine, but that doesn’t mean you get to laugh at me. Or pat me on the head and humiliate me. Or suggest I go out and find myself someone else to fuck, like I’m choosing a new goddamn pair of jeans.”

Zach is silent for a while, and then says, “Okay. Sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t. And fuck you." 

“Pine, I’m apologizing here. You keep telling me to fuck myself, you’re rapidly gonna lose the moral high ground.”

Chris can’t stop his brief laugh. “Thanks for the tip. I guess.”

“I honestly didn’t realize it was such a big deal. And I figured…” He heaves a big sigh. “I figured you might want to move on, find a…a real relationship, because I don’t seem to be satisfying you right now in _any_ way. All we do is fuck, or eat in silence and then fuck, or fuck and watch one of those awful shows you like.”

“ _Real Housewives_ is awesome!” Chris says indignantly. “And I wanted more than that. I’ve wanted more than that for a while, but you didn’t seem interested in dating or anything, so I…just put up with whatever, Zach. Because I want to be around you. I…I _like_ you.”

“I’ve never done it before.” 

“Huh?”

“Bottomed. I’ve never done it before.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” 

“Too gay for you?” Chris asks sympathetically.

“Fuck you, Pine.” But he’s chuckling. “I just never had the urge.”

“Ohhh,” Chris says, because it’s a huge revelation. “I get it now. You have no idea how amazing it feels.”

“I don’t know about that. You sell the experience pretty well when your vocab turns to gibberish. And when you stop breathing and cross your eyes when you come.”

“My eyes don’t cross!”

“They totally do.”

“ _Zach_ —”

“Come over.” 

Chris hesitates. “I don’t know, man, maybe we should just take some time—”

“Come over and sodomize me.”

He nearly breaks off his key in the deadlock on the way out.

~

“Omigod, omigod, omigod." 

Zach turns his head back over his shoulder and eyes Chris warily. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

“I’m just excited.” Chris pats Zach’s ass gently, his face split in a huge grin. “And hey, this is totally virgin territory, so I get to feel proud of myself. Little Zachy Quinto, giving it up for me. I didn’t even have to shell out for prom tickets or a corsage.”

“Okay, we’re done.” 

Chris pushes him back on to the bed, laughing. “No more sweet talk, I promise. But seriously, Zach, I can’t believe you’ve never explored your own ass before. You’re, like, the world’s worst gay man.”

Zach groans. “Can we just get on with this?”

“It’s not a medical procedure,” Chris scolds. “And I want you to enjoy it. Besides, I feel like I owe you after the creepy sleep-rutting.”

Zach shrugs. “I guess I should tell you. I was awake every time. At least, I assume every time. You seemed to do it pretty regularly.”

Chris gasps. “You bastard!” 

“Hey, it was hot!” 

Chris runs a lubed finger down Zach’s ass crack and pinches his buttcheek when he shivers. “Yeah, I’m so getting you back now. Spread your legs.”

Zach gives a longsuffering sigh, but does as he’s asked. Chris takes his time, rubbing slowly up and down his asshole, concentrating on the sensitive nerve-endings. When Zach is totally relaxed, and making little noises of pleasure, Chris pushes gently into his ass, just one finger, clenching his teeth as the muscle grips him.

“Oh, fuck, Zach, you’re so hot like this you don’t even know.” Zach gives a breathless half-chuckle in response, and Chris leans over him, pushing his finger in deeper. “You like that, don’t you? Let me take care of you, open you up for my cock.”

Zach goes totally still and Chris feels his heart stop for a second.

“Chris.”

“Yeah?” He’s expecting a _get your fucking finger out of my ass right now_ , but it’s not that.

“I am unexpectedly and thoroughly turned on by this. Try two fingers.”

“Not yet, baby. Trust me. Just get used to things. No, trust me. I’ve done this a lot more than you have.” Also, there’s no way Chris is going to pass on the opportunity to get a comprehensive and meticulous feel-up of Zachary Quinto’s asshole. He’s been fantasizing about this for months. _Years_ , maybe.

He gets to three fingers and starts going to town on Zach’s prostate, which seems to be sending the equivalent of electric shocks through him. Zach is mewling into the pillow, making Chris grin. Vocab turned to gibberish? Check. He withdraws his fingers with a reluctant little sigh and wipes them down.

“Face to face or—”

Zach is up on his hands and knees so fast, ass in the air like a goddamn beacon, that Chris almost giggles. He rolls on the rubber as fast as his fingers will let him, and settles between Zach’s legs, reaches behind to give a reassuring squeeze to his feet, which are curled up and tense. “Relax. This’ll be incredible.”

When he starts pushing in, watching Zach’s hole stretch with the pressure and feeling the clamp around the head of his dick, Chris has to stop, think about something, anything except this. Taxes, or the environment. They’re both serious enough to be his go-to jizz-stoppers in times of need.

Zach makes this astonished whining noise and Chris shoves forward, can’t stop himself until he’s all the way in, his dick aching in the velvet heat. Zach is saying something. Something unintelligible, that ultimately translates to _fuck me goddamn it fuck me_.

“Fuck, yes,” Chris mutters, and starts to pull out slowly, relishing every little whimper it pulls from Zach. “Once you get used to this I’m gonna fuck you so hard, baby, you’ll be screaming for me. This looks so goddamn good, Zach, my cock inside you, pushing into your hot little ass, you’re so fucking _tight_. You’re _killing_ me here, Jesus—”

Little by little it gets easier to thrust, and Chris takes hold of Zach’s hips to get better leverage. It’s washing over him, his balls slapping into Zach’s until they pull up tight. He grips Zach so hard that it forces out a yelp, and to apologize, Chris reaches underneath to tug at his cock.

It’s his own name ringing in his ears when he starts to spurt, _Chris Chris fuck yes keep doing that Chris oh fuck_ , and the one cogent thought he has before it’s all swept away is a smug, _I totally fucked your ass_. 

His hands are sticky with Zach’s come, and it’s not something he’s had much opportunity to play with before, so Chris takes his time there too, painting a _CWP_ on Zach’s lower back. Zach just grunts, his limbs flung out at alarming angles and sweat shining between his shoulder blades.

Chris flops down on the bed next to him, ties a knot in the rubber and throws it somewhere towards the trash can.

“I bet you went cross-eyed too.” Zach makes no reply. “You wanna watch _Real Housewives_ now?” Chris asks innocently.

He’s impressed by how coherent Zach’s _Fuck. You_. is, given the state of him.

“Then maybe we could snuggle for a while, instead.”

Zach makes a noise of agreement.

Chris settles in, an arm and a leg around Zach, feeling eminently satisfied. After a second, he asks, “But you’re Tivoing it, right?”


End file.
